


Waiting for the Fever to Break

by Recourse



Series: We Shall All Be Healed [3]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe - Sacrifice Max, Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mental Illness, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recourse/pseuds/Recourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years into a relationship with Victoria, Chloe's head-demons are pulling her into the pit. Victoria's there to get her out.</p><p>A coda for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6850537/chapters/15636814">"Cockroaches."</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Fever to Break

Chloe awakens to the sound of Victoria’s voice.

Fuck.

“Where the fuck is she?” reverberates from somewhere downstairs. Chloe slowly rolls over, getting her face out of the leather chair she’s slumped in. Her back hurts. Not a good place to pass out. Definitely not in this position. This isn’t how you sit in chairs, you fucking idiot.

Chloe hears scrambled babbling from terrified frat boys, offset by sharp, short clips of Victoria’s voice. Shit. _Shit._

She at least manages to get herself into a proper sitting position, but it seems impossible to do much more than that. Her head pounds. She feels like someone stretched her out on a torture rack. Her body’s coated with grime and dried sweat, and...ugh. Someone spilled beer all over her tank top. At some point.

She hears someone running up the stairs outside, and braces herself for what’s coming. Victoria slams the door open, steps over a passed-out college student, and marches straight across the living room and up into Chloe’s face.

“Get up,” Victoria orders.

She’s still so pretty. After all these years. Chloe misses when she had pink hair. That was cute for a while. Then she had to get all professional. Which is fine too, she looks hot right now, in her suit. In comparison, Chloe feels like—

“Jesus, you smell like a dumpster fire,” Victoria groans, taking Chloe’s hands and pulling her to her feet.

Yeah. That sounds right.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Victoria asks.

Chloe doesn’t know. Not really. She leans forward and puts her head on Victoria’s shoulder.

“That’s not gonna work, Chloe.” Victoria shoves her back, almost sending her back into the chair again. Chloe steadies herself as Victoria looks at the ground and pinches her brow. “Not this time.”

“Sorry,” Chloe mumbles.

“The fucking shop called _me_. Because they couldn’t get hold of you, and I’m your emergency contact. That means this is a fucking emergency,” Victoria states, poking Chloe’s chest. “Do you have any idea what kind of morning I’ve had?”

Chloe glances outside. It’s not really morning anymore. Looks like it might be noon. Then she looks back to Victoria and notices that her hair’s frazzled, like it gets when she’s grading and running her fingers through it every time she has to tear a student down. And her eyes are red.

“S-sorry.”

Victoria sighs. “Come on. Let’s go.” She takes Chloe’s hand and tugs her out of the room. As she emerges into the harsh winter sun, she squeezes her eyes shut to stop the pain. Well, that pain.

“How the hell did you even end up here?” Victoria asks.

Chloe barely remembers. It’s a kind of a blur. A customer thought she was cool. They ended up going out for a bowl after her shift. Then that just kept stretching until she was accompanying him and his friends to a frat party on the Hill. Vic would be working late that night. Chloe could get home before she did.

All the excuses she’d made to herself last night sound like bullshit in the morning.

“Chloe—”

“It was stupid,” Chloe answers as they descend the exterior stairs. Victoria takes a look at the back door of the frat house, curls her face up at the thought of going back through it, and leads Chloe through the alleyway instead.

“No shit.”

Victoria’s nails dig into Chloe’s hand. Their edges are ragged. Like she’s been chewing them.

She drags Chloe over to her car. After they both get in, Victoria just stares at the steering wheel for a second, white-knuckled hands clenched on it.

“How long?” she asks.

“Wha—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Chloe. How long?”

And suddenly Chloe knows exactly what Victoria’s talking about. And Chloe understands herself a little better. And she fucking hates that.

She slumps back in her seat. “Three months,” she admits.

“God _dammit,_ Chloe!” Victoria thumps her fist against the dashboard. “Why? Why now?”

“We—getting the insurance shit all dealt with, finding a doctor, after we moved it was all—”

“Why didn’t you _tell me_?” Victoria turns to look at her and she’s shaking. But the sharp anger in her voice is wavering, and there’s something shining in her eyes.

“I—it was my problem, Vic, you had all this other shit to deal with, you’re working a real job—”

Victoria groans in frustration, throwing her head against the seat back. Chloe shuts up as Victoria puts a hand to her face.

And sobs.

“Woah, Vic.” Chloe’s chest compresses. She shifts in her seat and reaches a hand over, touching Victoria’s cheek. “Vic, it’s, it’s okay, I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not,” Victoria murmurs as she drags her hand down her lips. “Jesus. I knew, I _knew_ you weren’t doing good, but...I should’ve asked sooner, I should’ve made you go get your goddamn meds—”

“I didn’t need them, I’ve been good for years—”

“Because you were _on them_ , you fucking asshole!” Victoria slaps her hand away. “ _God_ , why?”

Chloe can see that she’s blinking away tears, and she can’t stand looking at that anymore, so she turns towards the window and curls up into herself. “I dunno. I guess...I thought I could do it. I hate having to rely on fucking drugs to stay stable,” she admits. “I wanna be stronger than that.”

“It’s not about how _strong_ you are, Chloe. Jesus Christ, drop the dick-measuring bullshit, for once,” Victoria sighs. “Your brain’s fucked-up. That’s _fine_. You can’t fix it with a bunch of will. It’s not a character flaw to be sick.”

“But I should be over this!” Chloe objects. “I—I just keep thinking, and thinking, and it keeps coming back, the shit that happened in Arcadia Bay, the, the...the fact that you wanted to move out here, with _me_ , when people call you ‘professor’ and you’ve got this fucking trash sitting at home working at a hipster bike shop—”

“ _That’s_ what’s getting to you?” Victoria interrupts, holding up a hand.

“Well, _duh_ , Vic, we never belonged together, the fact that you’re still dragging me around is a goddamned miracle—”

“I’d be a mess without you! I _am_ a mess without you, God, look at me today.” Chloe does, a little closer this time, and...yikes. Anyone not looking wouldn’t see the signs, but Chloe recognizes a mid-anxiety-attack Victoria immediately, once she’s looking for it. Her brows are completely out of shape, because she’s been rubbing at them. Her makeup is just a little bit smeared. Her eyelids hang heavy, and her lipstick is faded from where she’d been chewing at her lip. Victoria looks away from her and puts her face in her hand again.

“Every day,” she mumbles. “Every day that I come home and get to see you keeps me going.” She takes in a long breath. “It’s like...when I get back from campus, and you’re making dinner, all that stress just goes away. Or, like, after I finish grading, when I can finally just sit with you on the couch or something, it just...Last night, when I got home and you weren’t there, I tried to stay calm. I did. But when I couldn’t get a hold of you, when I had to go to bed alone, I...I fucking freaked out. It’s so fucking pathetic, I know, but...all I could think of was when...”

She reaches over and brushes her fingers across the right side of Chloe’s head, over the scars from her suicide attempt, almost a decade ago now. “And I couldn’t be there for you, this time,” she says. “I was just stuck. Waiting.”

“H-how did you even find me?” Chloe asks.

“After the shop called, I...God, I sent out a missing person’s report, gotta cancel that,” Victoria groans. “And then I just...I wandered around town, looking for you, thinking I was gonna find your truck crashed or...or a crime scene, or...I—I saw one of the customers from your shop outside the house, and I knew you’d talked to him before, so I just sort of...”

“Screamed at him.” Chloe smiles, despite herself, turning her gaze away from Victoria.

“If you’d just kept your _fucking_ phone on—”

“It was dead.” Chloe doesn’t want to tell her that it’s been dead for days. She just never thought to charge it. There were always other thoughts drowning out that kind of shit.

Victoria breathes out one last long, heavy sigh, then turns the car on and gets it in gear.

Chloe stares out the window, turning over Victoria’s words in her head. Wasted worries. They should’ve broken up a long time before now. Then Victoria could have a rock that could actually _be_ a rock instead of some loser with a broken brain who’s gonna kill herself one day and leave her all alone. That’s the only future waiting for Chloe. People shouldn’t like her, or depend on her, or care about her at all.

“So, what do I have to do?” Victoria asks after a few minutes.

“What?”

“To make you stop thinking that I’m wasting my love on you or whatever other bullshit your brain’s telling you right now.”

“Vic—”

“Do I have to get the law involved?”

“Huh?”

Victoria turns to her as they stop at a red light. Their eyes meet, and Chloe can see the determination in them. “Will you marry me?”

Chloe tries to process that for a minute. Someone honks behind them. “Green,” Chloe murmurs, and Victoria turns her eyes back to the road.

“I’m serious, Chloe.” Victoria turns onto their street.

Chloe can’t speak. They’d never even talked about marriage. It hadn’t come up. Victoria is always busy, always moving up, and Chloe’s just kind of tagging along like a stray dog. The thought of slowing down and settling into somewhere is crazy. Especially if Victoria wants to do that with _Chloe._

“I just...maybe the next time you’re about to do something stupid, like give up your meds or attend a frat party at the age of twenty-fucking-nine, you can look down at your hand and think, oh, yeah, I’ve got a beautiful wife who can’t live without me, maybe I should take care of myself,” Victoria continues. “Maybe if I can’t love myself, I can love her.”

Chloe swallows. She _does_ love Victoria. But she shouldn’t. She should be out on the street where she belongs, she should—

“Fine,” Victoria says. “Stupid idea, anyway.” Her voice cracks as she parks in their driveway. She slams the door as she gets out, stalking up to the door as Chloe scrambles to get out, to say something, because Victoria’s shoulders are shaking and she’s trying to stifle herself but it’s not working and Chloe can’t fucking stand to watch her do that.

“Victoria!” Chloe calls as Victoria struggles with her keyring.

“It’s—it’s fine,” Victoria repeats, keys jingling in her hands. “Look, I—I cancelled class today, I got no fucking sleep, I need to go to bed. Charge your phone and do...do whatever you want, I guess.”

Chloe walks up to her and puts a hand on her keyring, steadying it for a moment. “Vic—”

“It’s _fine_. I’m sorry I even brought it up. Just—”

“Yes.” That’s what Chloe has to say, right now.

“Chloe, don’t just—just because I’m freaking out—”

“No, Vic, I really...I think I could do that.” Chloe tries to catch Victoria’s eyes, but she’s looking away, wiping at them. “Hey, come on, look at me.” She takes Victoria’s hands, the keys cutting into her skin.

Victoria looks up, her face open, her eyes pleading. “Do you mean it?”

“Yeah.” Chloe’s mind is screaming, telling her this is a mistake, this will just make it harder when they break up, but dammit, it’s a mistake she wants to make right now. Things _are_ stable. They both have full-time jobs. They have a little house. As long as Chloe can keep herself in _fucking_ check, there’s no reason this can’t work, at least for a little while. And she’s got an idea for a tattoo to mark the occasion, so that means it has to be done.

Victoria rushes forward and hugs her. “We file the paperwork tomorrow,” she murmurs.

“Really? No engagement?”

“Nine years is enough engagement.”

Chloe laughs, running her fingers through the back of Victoria’s hair. She feels light. Nine years. God, it’s been that long? And Chloe hesitated, even for a second?

“That probably counts as, like, the worst proposal of all time,” Chloe says as she pulls Victoria closer.

“We also had the worst first time ever, so, you know, fuck it,” Victoria says, a chuckle in her voice. “God. Are you serious?”

“I said yes twice already, Chase.”

“If I change my name, you’re gonna have to stop doing that.”

Chloe just keeps holding her, thinking of the fact that there might be a future in this hippie town after all. She’d been able to think that only months ago, before they actually got here. Not all the time, obviously, there was always some doubt at the back of her mind, but she’d been able to come out here without freaking out. Why did she let it take over her so easily?

Right. The meds.

Idiot.

She sighs, the weight of last night’s hangover suddenly present now that the storm has passed somewhat. She ruffles Vic’s hair and leans down and kisses her.

“Let’s go to fucking bed. Wife,” Chloe suggests after they break apart.

“Shower first. You’re extremely gross,” Victoria replies, managing to actually find the housekey at long last.

Chloe links their hands as they walk into the home that they own together. She remembers an old dream, one that’s stuck in her mind over all these years. Maybe this is dawn. Maybe now is the time to enjoy the sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> For my friends who have to deal with the American healthcare system in order to function.
> 
> Title taken from the Mountain Goats' ["Letter From Belgium."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zU5Xv1LK4X0)


End file.
